The Mind Of A Rapist
by xxflychica88xx
Summary: One-shot. Through the mind of the one and only Dean. Rated R for strong language and violence please R&R!


**One-shot about Dean! It's kind of long but bear with me. I just thought this would be interesting!**

There she was sitting right across from me in the courtroom. Her long straight blonde hair fell right along her shoulders. Her deep blue eyes pierced into mine with fear. I knew right then and there that I was still in control. Her fear was like an aroma that would soar through my body. I'd feel anything that she felt. It was almost like an animal instinct. It was as if I could feel and hear her puny heart beating all the way across the room.

I watched as the judge moved his mouth and spit out useless words. I wasn't really paying attention to what the fuck he had to say. I kept on getting a kick out of scaring Spirit shitless by continuously staring at her. I couldn't help but to smirk. While I was sitting there my whole life began to flash before my eyes. I don't know how or why but flashbacks suddenly started to saunter through my head.

Everybody thinks fucking Spirit is the only one who has to suffer. There like "oh you poor thing!" Yea whatever, if anyone knew half the things I've gone through they'd realize why I do what I do. But does anyone care to ask? NO! No one gives a fuck! I wasn't always like this. I'm not just some perverted freak that rapes every girl I see. I just don't look for sex! In fact I never really had a real fucking relationship with any girl. The only girl that ever cared about me was my mother who always got beat shitless from my dad.

_Get out of the fucking way you little dick! _I watched as my dad raised his fist to punch me right in the face. Before he even hit me I suddenly flashed back to reality nearly jumping out of my seat. My lawyer looked over me questionably mouthing if I was okay. I quickly nodded in response trying to play it off and shifted a little in my chair. I caught Spirit's eyes glancing toward me. I let out a big sigh and began to have more flashbacks of my pointless life.

It was a morning like any other supposedly "normal" morning in my house. I was only about seven years old living in one of the whitest trashed areas you could think of in Detroit. Every morning I'd wake up to my mom and dad's yelling. First there would be glass that'd break, followed along with more yelling, followed along with more things breaking and finally to the hitting. After the hitting everything would be quiet.

My poor excuse for a dad would always go out all night (probably fucking around with some hoes) and come home the next day with a hangover. Sometimes my mom would say something about it which would result in a big fight. Other times she would just let it go and my dad would go on with what he had to do.

I'd come home from school to find beer bottles everywhere while my dad slept on the couch. I tried to ignore everything my parents would do. At school everyone had normal parents who worked and got along with each other. I tried my best to tell the teachers that my family was just fine. It was even harder to lie to them when I had come to school with bruises on my body.

If I had done something wrong at home my dad would pick me up by my neck and throw me down the stairs. I can name tons of things he's done to me.

"Where the hell have you been boy?" I could see his eyes scorching with anger. I was home a little late from school since my teacher had to help me with homework. Who else would fucking help me?

"Uhh...I-I-.." I couldn't even get the words out because I knew from the look in my father's eyes that this wasn't going to be pretty.

"Huh??? Speak up god dammit! Answer me when I'm talking to you boy!" My father abruptly rose from the couch. I watched as his muscular chest went up and down. His face looked beet red and his eyes cut through me like fire. I could tell he was still a little drunk. Every now and then he'd swing his beer bottle back and forth making me feel as if it were a threat.

"My teacher was helping me with homework and..." my father quickly cut me off.

"Your teacher what? God Dammit now you listen! You don't need no help from no fucking teachers you understand me! You come home when I tell you to come home god dammit!" My father walked closer to me. By now I could smell the alcohol in his breath. My heart began to beat faster and faster by the minute. I opened my mouth to say something but nothing was coming out. It was as if a big lump had formed into my throat. Why did this have to happen to me right now at this minute?

I could see my father getting angrier by the minute. Without surprise he grabbed me by the neck and threw me across the room where I hit my head on a hard wood table.

"Answer me when I'm fucking talking to you boy!" I looked up at my father who was nothing but a blur to me. That hit had made my head feel like a thousand knives had stabbed my brain. The pain was just too hard to bear. I heard his footsteps getting closer and closer. I glanced up at him and saw nothing but a blank angry expression. He didn't give a fuck if I was hurt. Suddenly my mom walks in with two sacks of groceries in her hand. I immediately saw the fear in her eyes as she saw me laying on the floor on top a puddle of blood with my father standing right over me.

"Sam what the hell have you done to my son!" cried my mom as she rushed over to my side. Before she could even get to me my father quickly slapped her in the face making her fall down to the ground.

"Stay the fuck out of this Mary!" My father turned from me to her. I closed my eyes waiting for this nightmare to end. I didn't want to see him beat her again. That wasn't the only bad thing I had to see. Sometimes I'd watch my dad force my mom to have sex with him right in front of my eyes.

"No, Sam not tonight I'm tired." My mom was sitting there sprawled on the couch reading a magazine.

"Come on baby, you know you want some of this. You can't resist this can you?" Dad began to lean on my mother some more. She then tried to push aside and shook her head no. By then, I was about nine years old sitting in the kitchen playing my little game boy.

"I said no!" I could see the fear in my mother's face build up as I watched my father force himself on her. "Get off of me Sam! Get off!" but he wouldn't budge. He continued to push her hands away from his. I watched as he lifted up her arms and put them behind her back with one hand and unbuckle his belt with the other. Her screams began to ring in my ear like a never ending alarm clock.

Tears streamed down her face while my father was smiling with glee. He looked as if it was not a problem at all. She cried and screamed as he laughed. It wasn't just any laugh; it was a laugh that was evil. A laugh so evil you'd think he was possessed by the devil. At that time I couldn't understand why my dad liked the sound of my mom screaming. Why did he like to see her fucking hurt! Jesus Christ he created me from her!

I was watching this all while I continued to play my game boy. After a few minutes I couldn't take it anymore. I had to get out of there. I had to get away from all the hell and screaming. With that I quickly ran out of the door without any hesitation. My mom and dad didn't even see me. I ran and ran and ran. I ran until my lungs felt as if they were about to burst. At seven years old I thought about a lot of things. My mom always told me never to tell anyone about what happened at home. She told me that daddy was just angry sometimes and that he didn't mean to do the stuff he did.

Bullshit he didn't. He'd always come up with the same sad ass stories saying he was sorry and blah blah. My mom would always fall for his lame ass lies and shit. I hated it when she gave in. I even asked her why she kept on coming back. Since I was only seven she just brushed off the things I said and laughed. I knew that one day I'd get big enough to prevent my dad from doing those things.

After I had ran as fast as I could I quickly stopped and looked at my surroundings. I didn't know why I was there. I didn't even know what my purpose was to be living. Yea already at seven I thought about fucking killing myself. All of a sudden I vomited all over the ground. With that I quickly fell down and cried my eyes out all night. I cried until there was nothing left to tear. I don't remember how long I was sitting there. I don't even remember how I had gotten home the next day.

I'm thinking maybe some stranger found me laying on the ground. All the hellish things I went through finally ended one day five years later. I was twelve years old just about to start grade seven. By then I was already tall for my age. My voice had already changed and after school I'd go to lift weights in the gym. Sometimes the teachers would ask me about my bruises and I'd lie and tell them that I fell. Like dumbasses they believed me.

If teachers are so smart why can't they see through someone's lies? Well anyways I was sitting in the kitchen eating cereal when all of a sudden I hear my mom screaming and running through the home followed by my dad who had a knife in his hand.

"Come back here you fucking slut!" By now I couldn't take it anymore. No way was he going to kill my fucking mom. I hastily got up and ran toward my dad and pushed him away from my mom. My dad then gave me a look of shock. That was my very first time ever laying my hands on him.

"And just what the hell do you think you are doing faggot?" My father looked at me with confusion. His eyes pierced through mine. I glared at him back and for the first time in years, I wasn't afraid of the bastard.

"Keep your hands off of my mom!" My mom looked at me with disbelief. Even I couldn't believe those words came out of my mouth. My dad then lunged at me without saying a word. His knife was just inches from my neck. He had me tied down to the ground with his 250 pound body on 120 pounds. Without hesitation I kneed him in the growing area. He quickly moaned which gave me enough time to punch him in the face sending the knife flying across the floor.

I then hurriedly tried to get out from under my dad's large body when he suddenly grabbed me by the foot.

"Come back here you bastard!" By now sweat was dripping down from me. My mom was sprawled out on the floor while I was struggling to get from the grasps of my father. I then spotted a cooking pan that was inches away from me. If only I could reach it. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my dad reach in his pocket to grab something long and black. Oh shit he was going to shoot me. I continued to struggle harder and harder with all my might.

"Don't event think about it faggot!" By the time he had pulled it out of his pocked I quickly grabbed the pan and smashed it as hard as I could on his head. My mother then began to scream. I continued to bash him in the head harder and harder. Blood and gore gushed out of his head. I didn't care, the bastard had to die. As I was bashing him I cried and cursed him for ever being my father. For the first time I felt like I had power. Now I was the one in control. He was the one beating us for years now it was my turn. It was finally my turn to fucking control everything and it felt damn good.

I can remember that all so clearly now. I remember sitting there and crying for hours while my mom held me in my arms. I remember going to the police and telling them everything that had happened. I remember living in hell for those past few weeks while we searched for a new place to live. A year later my mom had gotten a new job that was in Canada.

I really wasn't looking forward to moving to Canada but I was like what the hell. A few months later I was going to attend some high school called Bardell. My freshman year was like hell. I was the new kid on the block with no friends at all. TO make things worse I was a new freshman. That all changed later that year when I beat the shit out of a senior. After that no one ever fucked with me. Everyone knew I didn't like to be fucked with.

I'd walk through the hallways and people would get out of the way knowing what I would do. I liked feeling in control with people. I got a thrill of scaring the shit out of little girls who are so much weaker than I. I was known as Dean the killing machine. Even the teachers were afraid of me. I think the main reason I had friends was because they were scared shitless of me. I didn't care though, that made me so much happier.

I remember the first time I laid eyes on that Spirit girl. She went head over heals for me. I watched as she danced in her blue and yellow panthers uniform in that short skirt. Oh how I wanted to get in that so bad. I knew that I could easily take control over her. I knew that that night was the chance for me to finally take control over somebody and my dream came true. I knew she was going to be an easy target.

I was like a splitting image of my father. Almost like de ja vu with me on top of Spirit and her screaming while I was smiling and continuing to do what I do. It felt pretty damn good to finally have power and control over somebody. People think rape is all about sex but that's not true. It's all about taking control over somebody. It's all about feeling stronger. If only others knew how I really felt. If only others knew why I do what I do. Words can't describe how I feel or ever will feel.


End file.
